the fellowship of the fanfic
by feeblehumankiller
Summary: eomer discovers the brilliant world of fanfiction, aggravation on the part of the fellowship ensues. humorfic. totally pointless.


**Title**: The Fellowship of the Fanfic

**Author**: feeblehumankiller

**Fandom**: LOTR

**Pairing**: Gen

**Rating**: PG-13

**Summary**: Eomer discovers the wonders of the internet and with it, fanfiction. Aggravation, on the part of the Fellowship, ensues. A series of one-shot episodes with various members of the Fellowship in increasing curiosity about fanfiction. AU. Post- War of the Ring, Frodo didn't sail to Valinor, Boromir didn't die, and the Fellowship is in Rohan.

**Disclaimer**: They are not mine (because if they are, I'd make them do naughtier things), they are all Tolkien's and Wingnut Studios', and Peter Jackson's. I shall put them back (with silly grins on their faces, hopefully) when I finish playing. Please don't sue, it's not nice.

**Beta**: the amazingly fabulous Aidz, for being as big of a fangirl to anything fanfiction as me (if not bigger) and the equally amazing Gaby (because even if hobbit feet never did it for her, she betas my slash-y LOTR goodness.)

**A/N**: I got the basic premise of this story from three things: being obsessed with LOTR, being a total fangirl for LOTR, and a sort-of similar story involving another fandom where Spike reads fanfic about Angel and him that eventually lead to the NC-17 rating, but that's another story. I don't know how they got wireless internet, or internet connections or laptops, for that matter, in Middle Earth, they just did. Don't underestimate the power of wizards and fangirls.

"Eomer, what is that ridiculous tunic you're wearing?" Aragorn lazily asked from his position in a chaise lounge in the Great Hall of Edoras, taking a much-needed vacation from Minas Tirith to Rohan.

Eomer had shed his Rohirrim armor and had taken to wearing graphic tunics that had the most unfathomable texts on them. Eomer had also taken to walking around with a monstrosity of blue and black, something the current King of Rohan called a laptop, tucked under his arm.

_Damn Gandalf for giving the blasted thing to him, in the first place,_ Aragorn thought.

Eomer's black shirt for the day was emblazoned with "Slash Over Het Any Day" in big white block letters.

"What does that gibberish even mean?" Gimli, looking up from his dice game with Legolas.

Grinning from ear to ear, Eomer sat at a wooden table in his Great Hall and with a flourish, opened his laptop.

"You guys just don't understand the magic of fanfiction," he said as he booted up and went online.

At the mention of _magic_, the hobbits, currently in the middle of their daily elevensies, looked up in unison. "Magic?" Pippin said around a mouthful of lembas slathered with apricot preserve.

"Does it involve any rings?" Frodo warily asked.

Eomer laughed at that and assured the now-worried looks of everyone in the Great Hall, "No, it doesn't. Worry not. But it seems the War of the Ring has attracted attention in lands beyond Middle Earth. And people in those lands have quite a few amusing stories to tell."

Merry, striding back in from the pantry where he had fetched another jar of preserve—peach, this time—lightly said, "That still doesn't explain your unusual garb."

"Let me finish, Master Brandybuck. These people apparently know almost everything about us, but have made up stories about us anyway. And they choose the most ludicrous pairings."

"Pairings?" Boromir finally asked, pausing from where he was wielding a grind stone to his sword.

"Most of these seem to revolve around romantic stories about the strangest people," Eomer affirmed, his grin coming from ear to ear.

"Read us some of these strange people," Gimli said.

Eomer laughed and said, "Funny you should ask, my friend. They apparently have a fondness for you and Gimli."

"Well, why not?" Gimli arrogantly asked. "It's no' common for an elf and a dwarf to become close allies."

Aragorn, silent for most of the discussion, dubiously said, "Gimli, I don't think these fanfiction people are talking about your friendship."

"Right you are," Eomer laughingly said. "Although, the two of you seem to get into many an interesting—erm—positions."

It was the hobbits this time, "Eeeew!"

"So what are you reading now?" It was Pippin.

"Well, Pip, I'm reading about myself."

"You?" Pippin laughed. "Do you have sex with anyone interesting?" the hobbit cheekily asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Apparently our friend Haldir has a habit of getting men into the most compromising of situations."

Pippin pranced away with a spring in his step.

"What's the most unusual pairing you've read?" It seemed as if the hobbits were the most fearless of the Fellowship, since it was a curios Sam that approached an enraptured Eomer.

Eomer, a little miffed about being pulled away from a quite-interesting Aragorn/Boromir, was nonetheless accommodating and a bit excited at the prospect of luring another into the fanfiction fold.

"Hmm, let me see, Master Samwise." After a brief pause from the Rohirrim, it was a triumphant, albeit a little disturbed, answer that came.

"Definitely Sauron/Saruman!"

"Why, Thranduillion, I never took you to be the snooping kind." Eomer admonished, but with a huge grin, at the now-blushing elf that he caught reading from his laptop.

Legolas, who had never before blushed in his centuries of existence, was now red to the roots of his hair—and not entirely from being caught by Eomer.

With the King of Rohan rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach in laughter (he had seen the pairing Legolas was reading), Legolas finally got the courage to ask,

"Is it really possible to bend dwarves that way?"

Aragorn looked up from reading a hellishly long fic Eomer had pushed him into reading with a disgruntled expression.

"I do not understand why this author makes me out to be so…" trying to think of a proper word "So… full of despair. And over Boromir, as well. Granted, Boromir is one of the finest warriors I know, but I would not spend my days pining over his love. Don't they know I have my Arwen?" the statement built in intensity and ended in a shout.

Raising a blonde eyebrow, Eomer smirked, "If you're going to read fanfiction, get it right,

It's called angst."

Gandalf came back from Hobbiton (to replenish his much-needed but depleted Shire leaf) to a strangely quiet Fellowship and a clearly incensed Eomer.

"Gandalf, get me another laptop!" Eomer demanded, slamming a mug of ale in front of the weary wizard in the Great Hall, practically emptying the mug of its golden content.

"I can't stand it anymore! They're hooked now, too, and they're _hogging_ my _laptop_!" the blonde King continued. In a fit of desperation, Eomer grasped Gandalf's shoulders and shook them slightly.

"Do you know how long I've gone without slash?? I need my fix!"

And thus it was, the Fourth Age of Middle Earth began, and thirteen months to the day that Gandalf the Grey sent the hobbit Frodo and his loyal friends from Hobbiton to a journey more perilous than any has ever taken, it was in the Golden Halls of Edoras in Rohan, the land of the horse lords, that the Fellowship of the Ring lived out their days of glory and peace, in the equally glorious name of fanfiction.


End file.
